It Just Isn't Enough
by HumpbackWhales08
Summary: A three-part story exploring Riza and Havoc's feelings after their one night stand. Riza's point of view, Havoc's point of view, and the aftermath of their encounter. Rated M just to be safe.
1. Riza

The early morning light crept in through Riza's bedroom window, pale and buttery as it spread out across the wrinkled sheets. Birds began to twitter sleepily outside of the window, interrupted only by the occasional motor car rumbling by in the snowy streets. Riza had been awake for a good half hour, her right arm growing numb and tingly from lying on it. She was afraid to move and wake the man lying beside her, afraid to have to make the awkward small talk of the morning after.

She couldn't think of what to say to Havoc when he would finally wake up. Should she offer him breakfast? Or would that be too weird? Would he want to walk to work with her? Would he want to use her shower? Would he want to talk, or just ignore everything?

Riza closed her eyes against the sunlight, her eyelids the color of orange flame against her eyeballs. The night had been a total disaster, a mistake due to a huge lack of judgment on her part. She had sat at the bar after work, waiting for Roy Mustang. They had arranged to meet there for a drink. It was the first time Roy had asked her to go anywhere that wasn't directly related to work. Caught off guard, she had stammered out a yes, her face flushing hot under his confident smirk. Her mouth twitched as she tried to fight off the urge to break into a grin, instead doing her best to appear only politely interested.

She had sat at the bar for an hour and half, sipping away at a dry martini. With each minute that ticked by, her heart sank a little further into the pit of her stomach. Idly, she traced the whorls in the wooden bar with her fingertips, growing sleepy and embarrassed by her own hopefulness.

She had stood up to leave just as Havoc came in, his hair out of place and his cheeks rosy from the biting winter wind outside. He struggled to close the door behind him, closing the cold out of the warm, stuffy bar. As his eyes met hers, he smiled in surprised delight. "Hawkeye! What are you doing here?" he said cheerfully, taking off his coat and laying it on a barstool. Hawkeye scowled.

"I was just leaving," she said shortly. She tried to stride briskly past him, but he reached out and gently grabbed hold of her forearm.

"Leaving? You don't look like you've had enough to drink to be leaving. I'll buy you a couple of drinks," he said, trying his best to be persuasive. Hawkeye's face remained stony and cold as she stared blankly into his kind, open face. "Come on," he continued with a smirk, "you're already here."

Riza sighed wearily and nodded heavily. "Sure, sure. But you're buying."

Riza rarely got drunk, inside electing to exert self-control over her drinking habits, the way she utilized self-control in every area of her life. But that night was different, the night Roy Mustang stood her up. She had poured back shot after shot while listening to Havoc tell stories of when he fought in the war. It got later and colder, and it was well below zero when they both stumbled out the door, Havoc winding his arm around Riza and pulling her close to him. Riza let him.

"I'll keep you warm," Havoc slurred, drunkenly but not without sincerity. Hawkeye allowed herself to smile coyly.

"Come back to my place," she whispered thickly, pulling at his coat lapel. Havoc gave her a crooked smile and responded by pressing his mouth against hers, parting her lips with his tongue. She let him kiss her deeply as she squeezed her eyes together, imagining that Roy had showed up and that she was with him, not his subordinate. For years, she had allowed herself only to imagine what life might be like with Roy. But imagining just wasn't enough to make it real.

Riza turned over finally and stared at Havoc's bare back, his face turned away from her. She couldn't tell if he was still asleep or was already awake and just waiting for her to get out of bed first. Riza flicked her eyes to the wall clock across the room, ticking away slowly. With a heavy sigh, Riza pulled her soft, naked body from underneath the covers and began to get ready for the workday.


	2. Havoc

Havoc lied perfectly still in the warm bed he now shared with Riza Hawkeye. If it wasn't for the sound of the gentle rise and fall of Riza's breathing he would assume that the night before had been a fantasy, a drunken dream that had never occurred in reality. He could feel the warmth off Riza's naked body, a warmth that he had felt with her in the late hours of the previous night. Havoc closed his eyes against the white-washed light of the winter morning and watched as Riza's form flickered against his eyelids.

There she was, with that quiet sad smile of hers. Riza rarely smiled, and when she did, it was tired and half-hearted. Havoc knew that everything about last night was half-hearted. He had kissed her deeply, his tongue probing deep into her warm mouth, the taste of whiskey lingering on her tongue. She had wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, allowing him to lower her gently onto the bed. He had caressed her naked body with his hands, explored every inch of her, an exploration that Riza accepted passively.

She had kept her face turned away from him, her eyes closed, as he touched her. Her skin shivered where he let his fingertips trail across her skin, goosebumps erupting onto her flesh. With a twinge of bitterness, Havoc thought to himself that she was probably just cold. Or it was the thought of someone else that made her body tense and quiver when he let his hands linger in the spot between her legs.

He had kept his eyes on her the whole time, even as he positioned himself above her and began to thrust, slowly and tenderly. If it wasn't for the small gasps and moans she made, Havoc would have thought she'd fallen asleep, she looked so calm and peaceful. When it was over, he had pulled her close to him, breathing in the smell of her hair. Her hair smelled clean and sweet, with only a slight undertone of whiskey and vodka and booze.

After a while, after she thought he had fallen asleep, she had lifted his arm that was draped lovingly across her body. As slowly as she could, Riza had wriggled free from Havoc's embrace and moved as far away from his body as she could. Havoc felt disappointment sink like a stone into his chest as he turned over onto his side, his back to Riza, a woman who had made love to him with another man in mind. He was nothing more than an afterthought, a pitiful consolation prize.

Next to him, Riza pried herself out of bed and began to move towards the far side of the room. She opened up a drawer to her dresser as quietly as possible and grabbed a pair of underwear and a clean brassiere before creeping into the bathroom. Havoc listened as Riza turned on the water, the ancient pipes rattling inside the peeling walls. He imagined her stepping into the hot spray, the water running in rivulets along the curves of her body. Desire coursed through his body, sweeping through his veins. Idly, he wondered what she'd do if he stepped into the shower with her. He could almost see the look of disdain, now that she was sober and back to her cool, calculating self.

Sleepily, Havoc's bitter thoughts turned to Roy, his superior. Roy had an offhand confidence about him, a confidence that Havoc desperately envied. Havoc's thoughts burned with jealousy. No matter how much he desired – maybe even loved – Riza, it just wasn't enough. As long as he wasn't Roy Mustang, it would never be enough.

Havoc yanked himself out of bed and began to assemble his clothes that had been strewn about the floor the night before. He hurried to pull on his rumpled clothes before Riza got out of the shower, fully intending to leave without even saying a word to the woman that would never love him back.


	3. Release

"Damn it, where's my other boot?" Havoc cursed under his breath, stooping down to peer underneath the bed. But there was nothing there, not even dust bunnies. Riza kept her quarters in spic-and-span condition. Havoc stood up to do another visual sweep of the room, and caught sight of Riza opening the door of the bathroom, clad only in basic white bra and panties.

"Oh!" she said in surprise, automatically reaching up to cross her arms in front of her chest, as if Havoc hadn't seen her in her underwear last night. "I thought I heard you get up to leave." She glanced away, her ears burning red. In the daylight, in her sobriety, it seemed weird to have Havoc in her bedroom, putting on the clothes he had worn the night before.

"Yeah." Havoc's heart sank lower at Riza's hopefulness that he'd already gone. It seemed she really had no desire or intention of talking to him that morning. "I just need to find my other boot, and then I'll be out of your hair." Havoc tilted his head back towards the ground to not show Riza the disgruntled expression on his face.

"Oh, alright," Riza said helplessly, moving quickly to her closet and hastily throwing on a clean uniform, keeping her back turned to Havoc. But Havoc didn't bother to sneak a glance at her warm, lithe body wriggling into her work clothes, pulling her trousers up over her ample buttocks. Instead, he quickened his search, peering into every corner of the room. All he wanted at that point was to leave, as the air was growing thick with discontent.

"Is that it over there?" Riza offered, now fully clothed, pointing in the direction of the nightstand. There it was, wedged between the bed and the bedside table. It must have landed there in the hurried disrobing of the night before. He reached down and quickly grabbed his boot, sat down on the bed, and jammed it onto his foot. His fingers worked deftly as he hurried to lace up his boot.

Havoc stood up and flexed his back. It was sore from sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. "Alright," Havoc began awkwardly. "I guess I'll see you at work." He raised his large, masculine hand in a half-hearted wave. Riza nodded eagerly, obviously pleased to see him go. Her eagerness to have him leave didn't miss Havoc's attention. Roy and his other coworkers liked to joke about him being more dense than not, but he could sure as hell tell when a woman wanted him out of her house and out of her mind altogether.

"Yeah, see you," Riza said, her voice jumping a bit. Riza looked up and met Havoc's icy blue eyes before looking down at her sleeve, pretending to have noticed a thread coming loose from the seam.

A flash of anger seared through Havoc's chest. He wanted to storm out, slam the door behind him. He wanted to grab Riza and kiss her hard, force her to feel what he felt for her. He wanted to grab her hands and ask why, why she couldn't feel the same way about him as she did about Roy.

He stomped to the door, but stopped short at the threshold. He turned back around slowly, and placed his hand on the splintering door frame. "Riza," he said, his voice coming out in a sharper tone that he had intended. She looked up into his face, her amber eyes wide and hesitant as they scanned his tense face.

"What is it?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light and conversational. _Just go away, Havoc. Just go away. _

"Was – was it that bad that you can't wait for me to leave?" he stammered, boring his eyes deep into Riza's, not allowing himself to blink.

Riza sighed, her chest heaving wearily. "No, Jean. It wasn't bad at all. But it shouldn't have happened. It was a mistake on my part." She kept her tone even and cool, as if explaining the process of long division or what makes the sky blue. Havoc shook his head in response, wrapping soundly on the door frame in frustration.

"Why are you so eager to write it off as a mistake? Why can't you let yourself even think about us actually being together?" Havoc cleared his throat, fighting off the hot feeling that was rising out of his chest.

"Because I don't feel the same way that you feel about me, Jean," she said, her eyes softening with pity. She had developed a hard exterior throughout her life, but it still broke her heart to see Havoc, a soldier, cowering like a vulnerable dog before her.

Havoc frowned, his brow furrowed with a simmering anger that threatened to burst out of him, a torrential flood. "How can you sound so certain when you say that? You _chose_ to sit and drink with me. You _chose _to let me come home with you! You don't feel _anything_ for me?"

Riza's face began to harden once again. "But if I'd had a choice, I'd have let someone else come home with me. Not you." She turned away suddenly and reached for her uniform jacket. In a small voice that barely rose over the rustle of the thick, canvas-like material, she added, "I'm sorry."

Havoc let out a long breath that he hadn't realized he'd been keeping locked up in his chest. It was a surprising release, a release that weakened the tenseness in his muscles, relaxed his taut back. He took in another deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the hotness in his face beginning to subside a bit, like the tide finally rolling out to sea.

"You know that I really…feel strongly for you, right, Riza? That I've always felt this way about you…" he said, his voice trailing off. In the movies, scenes like this were always tragically romantic, but the words felt heavy and dumb in his mouth.

Riza closed her eyes tight, as if willing everything to go away. "I know," she replied, because it seemed like the right response. Sadly, she added, "But that just isn't enough."

Havoc turned slowly and made his way out into the biting winter air.


End file.
